Bright sunshine greeted Sydney when she awoke on the first morning in her new home.
It fell softly through the shading blinds upon the dainty fittings of her luxurious¹ room, and on Ward², as she stood beside her with a tray, containing a fairy-like tea-set for one.
“Oh, what is the time?” cried poor Sydney in dismay. Surely she had overslept herself, and Ward was bringing her a rather unsubstantial breakfast in bed!
“Eight o’clock, ma’am,” the maid answered softly, placing the tray on a little table by her bedside. “Would you wish me to draw the blinds up, or shall I leave them down till you get up?”
“What time is breakfast?” Sydney asked.
“Lady Frederica breakfasts in her bedroom, Miss Lisle,” said Ward; “and so of course does his lordship since his accident. Mr. Fenton commonly likes his about ten o’clock
[54]
 when staying here, I have heard. He breakfasts downstairs. Lady Frederica thought you would wish to take yours in bed.”
“I would much rather get up,” said poor Sydney. “I am not at all tired now, and I get up at seven at home.”
Ward never seemed to be surprised at anything.
“Yes, ma’am; what time would you wish to get up?” she inquired.
“When I have drunk my tea, please,” the girl said; “that is—unless you think Lady Frederica would mind?”
A very faint smile did part Ward’s lips for a moment, but only for a moment. “I am sure her ladyship would wish you to do exactly as you please, ma’am,” she said, and withdrew to desire a housemaid to bring up Miss Lisle’s hot water.
“Exactly as I please; this is an odd place!” thought Sydney, as she sipped³ her tea out of a Dresden china cup and ate the wafer bread and butter provided.
She took heart of grace and rejected Ward’s services over her morning toilet: the sunshine had given her fresh courage, and she felt quite a different being from the tired-out, homesick Sydney of last night.
[55]
She was dressed by a quarter to nine, and stood looking from her window at the green park, with its great bare spreading trees below her. Only a quarter to nine! What should she do with herself till breakfast time? At this hour at home, breakfast would be a thing of the past, and father and Hugh have gone off to the hospital. And mother would have done a hundred and one things before settling down to teaching the girls; and the boys would have been off—the younger ones to school, and Hal to King’s College. And Sydney herself would have been practising, or hearing Prissie practise, on that old shabby school-room piano. How odd it felt!

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